


Silence is Golden

by lasympathetique



Category: South Park
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 21:44:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3503873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasympathetique/pseuds/lasympathetique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If adolescence was a thunderstorm, Clyde was a lightning rod. Which would make Craig the lightning, right? He certainly was quiet enough. A snapshot into the lives of two boys as they struggle with the problems of being teenagers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence is Golden

It was during advanced chemistry when Craig first suspected something was wrong with Clyde.

He dropped his books on the desk and slid into his chair without as much as a word to Craig, not looking at anyone. Craig tried to catch his eye, but Clyde either didn't notice or flat out ignored him. He spent the lecture staring at a blank sheet of paper, chewing the end of his pencil. Clyde loved chemistry, he was good at it too. But today his eyes were blank and unfocused.

"Can anyone tell me the difference between a solute and a solvent?" The teacher surveyed the room like a hawk about to swoop on prey. "Clyde, how about you?"

"...uh…could you repeat the question?"

"Solutes and solvents, how are they different?"

"Right…solutes are…"

It was too painful to watch, and Craig was relieved when Kyle came to Clyde's aide, blurting out the answer like the know-it-all smartass he was. Clyde didn't seem phased, he just folded his arms and buried his head on the hard desk with a small groan.

When they split into their chemistry groups for the experiment assigned to the lecture (titration of a solution), Clyde dragged his feet. Even Token and Kyle noticed.

"Dude," said Kyle, pulling Craig to the side. "Clyde hasn't said anything all class. He's not pulling his weight at all."

Craig kept a straight face. He respected Kyle, who was notorious for sticking to his morals and constantly warring against the dicks of the world (Eric Cartman) with heated words and impassioned speeches, but he wasn't, well…he wasn't nice. Kyle didn't mince words. If he thought your problem was stupid he'd tell you, lecture you, and then he'd remind you about the kids living in third world countries. And Clyde was pretty sensitive. It would be better if Kyle wasn't concerned.

"Maybe he's sick," Craig offered tonelessly.

"No, he's upset about something."

Craig bit his tongue and shrugged non-committedly.

"You should talk to him, he's not doing anything." Kyle concealed a glanced at Clyde, who stood listlessly at the experiment station while Token was busy taking notes on a beaker fizzing with blue liquid. "I don't want to stay through lunch time. Snap him out of it."

Before Craig could respond, Kyle was already back looking over Token's notes for errors. He shot Craig one last meaningful look, red hair frizzy from the chemical fumes making him look like an eccentric young Einstein. It was an intimidating display.

So, Craig casually edged over to Clyde.

"Hey."

"Mmm."

"Help me with the sodium solution. We need to mix it with the proper concentrations."

"…'kay."

Clyde followed Craig around numbly, fumbling over even the simplest tasks Craig assigned to him. He poured salt everywhere and dropped the beaker after they managed to put in the exact amount of granules. Craig picked up the slack without a word, biting back the sarcastic comments that sprung to his tongue. Saying the wrong thing might reduce Clyde to tears right here in the classroom, which would be both embarrassing and disruptive. But there wasn't anything else to talk about, so they spent the majority of the work in silence.

When they returned with the mixed solution, Token looked Clyde over with mild concern.

"Hey man, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Clyde mumbled.

"You sure? You seem off today."

Clyde's head shot up and he glowered at Token. "I'm fine. So get. Off. My. Back."

"Okay dude, whatever," Token raised his brows and went back to adjusting the titration valve, a small black twist-open on a tall, skinny glass tube. Unlike Kyle, he knew when to leave Clyde alone. Unlike Craig, he thought that being alone was what Clyde truly wanted.

The final straw was when Clyde was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he accidentally nudged a glass beaker over the edge of the counter. It shattered with a startling crash, thousands of tiny shards scattered across the cold floor.

Kyle jumped. " _Jesus!_ "

"No one step on the glass," said the teacher absently, preoccupied at his desk. "Group 3, get the broom and sweep it up. Put it in the garbage."

Kyle sighed dramatically. Token pursed his lips, clearly trying to hold back his annoyance. Craig said nothing; he found the broom and began quietly sweeping up the glass.

Clyde watched him for a moment, a peculiar look on his face. Then without warning he bolted, leaving the classroom door wide open behind him.

"Woah." Token watched the ajar door uneasily. "I didn't think he was that upset."

Exasperatedly, Kyle pulled a fresh beaker from the drawer. "If he's that upset, the least he can do is not destroy school property."

Craig stared at him. That was the last straw. Setting the broom against the experimental counter, Craig turned on his heels and walked out of the classroom. He vaguely heard the teacher protesting from his desk, but Craig tuned him out, intent on searching for the red flash of Clyde's sports jacket.

In a heartbeat Craig was at the end of the hallway. He rounded the corner, but Clyde wasn't at his locker. Neither was he in the washroom. Thinking hard, Craig stopped when he saw Stan Marsh at the water fountain.

"Marsh."

Stan turned, confused. "Uh, yeah Craig?"

"Seen Clyde anywhere?"

Stan thought for a moment. "Um, yeah, actually. He got his backpack and left. Did he get sick or something?"

"Yep."

Craig didn't bother explaining, even though he saw Stan was clearly unimpressed with the one word answer. He walk away, pulling the earflaps of his hat further over his ears in anticipation of the biting autumn wind. He knew Clyde lived on the other side of town, it would be a long, cold walk home. He couldn't really see Clyde endeavoring it.

So Craig wasn't really surprised when he saw Clyde sobbing on the side of the curb, hugging his backpack tightly to his chest.

He sat down next to him, ignoring the freezing sensation of cement on his butt, and exhaled deeply. Watched the misty puffs dissolving as they floated upward. Waited for Clyde to speak.

"M-my dad…he's got a-a…"

Craig waited patiently. This was their ritual one that he had performed many times since the beginning of middle school and puberty and brain ravaging hormones. Reaching into his coat, Craig found a soft crumpled tissue. With a friend like Clyde, he learned to keep certain things in his pockets. Hoping it was clean, he passed it to the teary boy, who took it and blew noisily.

"H-he's got…he's got a g-girlfriend…"

Craig's stomach tightened. How long had it been since Clyde's mom had died? Four years? Five?

"A-at first I just thought she was f-f-from his work…they were working on-on a project…but I saw them last night…" Clyde's eyes were bloodshot and leaking. "They were k-kissing o-on the-the front porch…"

Craig began gently nudging Clyde to his feet, taking his arm and guiding him up. Together they walked down the empty street, the roaring wind tearing crunchy leaves from branches and scattering them about in mingles of red and yellow.

"She-she's really p-pretty…a-and young…she's blonde…not like Mom…" Clyde rambled while Craig led him down the sidewalk, keeping a warm hold of his arm. "…I-I think it's serious…he really l-likes her…"

They crossed the street, following the familiar route to the coffee house. Tweek Bro's Coffee would be safe, especially since Tweek was still at the school. That would have been doubly awkward if he was their server, spilling burning coffee into Clyde's lap or shaking horribly when he forgot their orders. Craig didn't know why Tweek's father insisted he work there when he was so clearly bad at it.

"...She's not…I think D-Dad…she's gonna r-replace Mom…I-I don't want her t-to…" Clyde slowed to a mumble as the store bell chimed, Craig ushering him in. "…I…I miss her…"

He seated Clyde at a small round table away from the windows, deeper into the empty café. Sliding into the fancy stool across from him, Craig folded his arms and leaned forward. He gazed intently into Clyde's eyes, a warm honey brown. The uncontrollable sobs had slowly dwindled to sniffles on the walk over, and now Clyde was red-eyed and exhausted. He sighed wearily, absently fiddling with the salt shaker as stubborn tears tracked down his cheeks.

"Mornin' boys, can I get you anything?" Mr. Tweak had always been entirely too cheerful for Craig's taste. Even now, during what was obviously school hours, he stood before them with a professionally tailored retail smile and a pen and paper, ready to jot the orders of these students who were obviously ditching class. Craig supposed Mr. Tweak rather made a five dollar profit than lecture two troubled youths on the importance of education. Money hungry jerk.

"A small tea and a medium hot chocolate, please." The tea was for him, the hot chocolate for Clyde. In the warm months Clyde took the iced vanilla latte. But there was a distinctive chill in the air today, a foreboding threat of the wintery weather to come.

"Certainly! What tea do you want there, Craig?"

"Blueberry, please."

"Any cream, sugar?"

"No, thanks."

"Anything else?"

Craig thought for a moment. It was almost lunch time. "One of those scones, please."

"The lemon and cranberry?"

"Uh, sure. Please."

"Gotcha, I'll be back in a jiffy, boys." Mr. Tweak flashed a smile whirled around and was off, rattling about noisily behind the barista counter.

Clyde hardly noticed the eccentric man come and go. His nose was running again, and Craig plucked a clean napkin from the silver dispenser and handed it to him.

"H-her name's Mel-Melissa…and I hate her…I really…really….hate her…."

Mr. Tweak returned with a piping hot cup in each hand, steam curling off the lids, the scone plated and expertly balanced on his forearm. "There you are boys, enjoy!" Craig passed him a fiver right there, otherwise Mr. Tweak would hover around their table ensuring the boys didn't pull a dine 'n' dash. Satisfied, Mr. Tweak smoothed out the bill with another polished smile and disappeared to the back room.

Craig pulled a fluffy bit of the scone and popped it in his mouth. He wanted to wait for his tea to cool. Clyde was never deterred by the boiling temperature. He took a gulp of hot chocolate like a shot, throwing it back and slamming the plastic cup down on the table.

"A-and she's not even  _nice,_  she, like, is  _such a bitch_. Like, I don't even know what Dad sees in her." Growing less teary and more pissed, Clyde's anger was diminished somewhat by the chocolate mustache smudged across his upper lip. "She tries to act like my Mom, but she's so annoying, she smiles all the freaking time and she dresses like she's twenty or something. Dad's  _always_ hanging out with her. I hardly ever see him anymore, a-and it's like he d-doesn't even c-c-care…"

The waterworks were back, replenished and stronger than ever. "He doesn't even care th-that I h-hate her, he won't even t-t-talk about M-Mom anym-more…"

Clyde buried his face in his hands. Craig stirred his tea and slid the scone towards Clyde, who took no notice. Leaning across the table, Craig tapped Clyde's forearm and gestured to the scone again, fluffy and delicious save for the small piece he'd plucked earlier. Reluctantly, Clyde ripped a small chunk off and bit into it mechanically, chewing it like sand. He gulped down the pastry with a swig of hot chocolate. The food seemed to help ground Clyde a bit more, and his fingers curled around the warm cup in comfort.

"A-and it just sucks. Y'know? It sucks. I hate her. She's ruining. Everything."

Craig nodded, gingerly poking his tongue through the lid of his tea. Lukewarm, perfect. He took a long sip. Clyde was nearly finished, picking apart another piece of the scone, removing all the cranberry bits and arranging them in a small pile. Once the piece was all golden, not a speckle of dark pink anywhere, Clyde squished it up and ate it. Craig pinched a cranberry and dropped it in his mouth. Sweet and tart. He reached for another.

"Dude, cranberries are freaking gross." Clyde's mouth was full of sour pastry.

Craig shrugged, popping more in his mouth and washing them down with cold blueberry tea, the heat leeched from it. Mr. Tweak really ought to invest in better cups, he thought absently. Together he and Clyde finished the scone. Craig took Clyde's empty coffee cup and tossed it in the trash with his own still sloshing half-full. It wasn't that great anyways.

They left the shop, Mr. Tweak waving a friendly goodbye from his barista counter. The streets were even bitterer, and Clyde huddled close to Craig. They walked shoulder to shoulder until they arrived at the front steps of Craig's house, a good sight close to the school than Clyde's was.

"And now everyone thinks I'm a freaking dumbass or something." Clyde glumly unlaced his shoes and followed Craig to the living room. "I know Kyle hates me, and Token's probably pissed too. I bet I get detention for a week."

Craig turned on the Xbox One and loaded up some shooter game, passing Clyde a controller. They played mindlessly until Craig's dad came home. It was after five, so there was no way for him to tell Craig skipped the entire second half of the school day.

"Boys, supper. Clyde, you stayin' over?"

"Yessir, if that's okay with you."

"Fine by me," said Mr. Tucker. One of the rare things Craig appreciated about his dad was his tendency to just roll with things. He didn't even think to ask if Clyde's dad knew that he was sleeping over. Perfect.

Supper was meatloaf and peas. Clyde dug in eagerly, and there was a stiff realization amongst all the Tuckers that it had probably been a while since he'd eaten a good homemade meal. Mr. Donovan had never been much of a cook. Even Ruby knew to keep her mouth shut, a rare trait for a twelve year old girl. Craig's mom prattled on with Clyde about school and grades while Ruby chimed in occasionally, giving her own middle-school perspective.

"And I don't want to take chemistry or physics, just biology. Karen says biology is easiest."

"How does Karen know? Isn't she in your grade?" asked Clyde.

"She asked Kenny and that was what he said. Besides," Ruby sectioned her meatloaf into meticulous squares, "I want to be a doctor, so I'll only need biology."

"A career choice I approve of," Mr. Tucker boomed, gesturing with his fork. "Craig, take note. This girl wants to be a  _doctor_. You've got a good math brain boy, you ought to give engineering a try. It'll make you money, none of that starving artist crap."

"It's computer animation, Dad," Craig mumbled. "It's not crap."

"But will it put food on the table? Now that's where I think…"

Craig tuned out, focusing on spearing tiny green peas on the tines of his fork. Eventually his mom took control of the conversation, steering it to football tryouts. The rest of supper finished smoothly, to Craig's relief. No way would his dad go full-blown tirade while Clyde was here.

Afterwards they retreated to Craig's room and watched a movie, some horror flick about a girl who got possessed by the devil. Craig knew Clyde secretly hated scary movies, but he watched them anyways, particularly when he was upset about something. They made him feel macho after all the crying. Still, that didn't stop Clyde from squeezing Craig's pillow to his chest and closing his eyes whenever something terrifying flashed across the screen. Craig rather liked the film, especially when the girl's head twisted all the way around and she started spewing orange vomit. Clyde actually grabbed his arm in fear and refused to let go until the credits rolled.

Craig didn't mind. Usually he preferred to avoid physical contact, cringing away even when his mom hugged him for too long, but for some reason Clyde didn't bother him. Good thing too, Clyde was such a naturally physical person, always hugging, patting, tickling, plucking stray hairs from Craig's shirt like it was nothing.

Afterwards they played cards until they were both yawning. Clyde was teaching Craig poker, commenting endlessly on Craig's natural poker face with great amusement. But soon Craig found the numbers on the cards blurring out of focus, and a great yawn split across Clyde's face. Stumbling to his closet, Craig rifled through messy piles of clothing and salvaged two pairs of pajama pants, tossing one to Clyde.

Backs turned to one another, Craig stripped and wriggled into his pajamas. He waited for Clyde to give the go ahead before he turned around.

"Kay, wiener's secure."

Craig turned out the lights and flopped onto his bed. A jostling thump told him Clyde had just done the same, crawling under the same outer space bed sheets Craig had kept since grade four. His bed always seemed so small when Clyde slept over, but again, he didn't mind so much. The nearness was kind of comforting.

"Your dad's wrong, y'know." Clyde's voice was quiet and disembodied in the darkness. "You can go into animating if you want to. I think it's sweet. Plus you're super talented. Everyone says the stuff you make in graphic design is always the coolest, even the teachers."

Craig's throat felt sore. He lay on his back and stared listlessly at the ceiling. When he was little his dad had put glowing stickers of stars and planets up there to help Craig sleep. Eventually, one by one, the adhesive dried up and they all fell off.

"You're…" Clyde was interrupted by another yawn. He rubbed his eyes and sleep overtook him. "…you're a good friend. You always listen…to my problems…and take them seriously…"

The full moon glowed outside Craig's window, low and full.

"I know you don't like talking to people…I'm happy you don't feel like…you have to talk to me. Like, you just like hanging out with me. That's…really cool…"

Craig said nothing. He didn't have to.

Clyde lazily slung an arm over Craig, laying spread eagle on his stomach with carefree abandon. "G'night…"

Craig waited for Clyde's snores to puncture the silence before he closed his eyes. The arm that embraced him tightened as though clinging to a teddy bear.

When he was alone at night, the inky shadows would swallow him up and whisper cruel things in his ear. They would take tiny pickaxes to his brain and tap and tap until everything was breaking and it felt as though his very soul would shatter into a million glass pieces. He'd float up and out and drift far away, up to the moon and the stars and away from here.

But Clyde's warmth kept him anchored. The sleeping boy cuddled closer, his presence impossible to ignore. Craig felt  _real_  against his touch. It was nice to know even in the darkness, he mattered to someone.

"Goodnight, Clyde."

Someday, he'd be able to tell him. He knew Clyde would wait

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, it's tough being a teenager. I remember those times, and, ugh, I'm so happy they're done. This fic's a snapshot of Craig and Clyde in the prime of their teen youth, not really a complete story. Still, it was loads of fun to write and I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you have any thoughts, suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Seriously, authors thrive on feedback, it's how we grow!
> 
> Thanks thanks thanks, and have a lovely night!


End file.
